


Scission

by lesbrarians



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Background Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bondage, Edging, Existential Angst, Feelings Realization, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarians/pseuds/lesbrarians
Summary: After sleeping with Xaldin, Luxord makes the mistake of mentioning such forbidden topics as "love" and "feelings." An argument ensues, leaving Luxord confused, angry, and in search of answers.
Relationships: Luxord/Xaldin (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 17





	Scission

**Author's Note:**

> My first Kingdom Hearts fic in literally a decade! And we're starting with the smut right out the gate, so consider that fair warning that there will be zero preamble lmao.

Luxord wasn’t used to others encroaching on his domain. Time, fate, and luck: he and he alone had command over those realms. 

And yet, he found himself at the mercy of a man who had decided to flip the script on him. When he’d acquiesced to being tied up, he hadn’t planned on Xaldin taking his sweet time with him. Not to this extent. 

He was approaching an hour and a half of riding the edge. An hour and a half of what amounted to torture, in his mildly dramatic opinion. If he’d had his way, he would have gone in the opposite direction: a timed challenge of sorts, goading Xaldin on to see how quickly he could get him off. 

But his partner, much to Luxord’s displeasure, had different ideas. He supposed he couldn’t complain: there was value in playing the long game as well. As endlessly frustrating as it was to be continuously denied the satisfaction of completion, he had to admit that the journey _was_ intensely pleasurable. 

Less pleasurable than the constant tease-and-denial was the fatigue he was experiencing, standing in the middle of Xaldin's room for 90 minutes. Xaldin had him entirely subjugated; a lance, affixed between his knees and his ankles as a makeshift spreader bar, rendered him immobile. His hands were bound behind him, tied to the juncture of two more lances. Crossed in an all-too appropriate X, the lances were impaled in the ground. The destruction of The Castle That Never Was didn’t concern either of them; the Moogles would fix any physical damage to the environment when the Organization left on their daily missions. The creatures certainly earned their pay with the Castle’s upkeep, between the not-entirely-uncommon physical violence, and the fact that there were _multiple_ couples amidst the Organization that played with power dynamics (an inevitable side effect of the Organization’s ranking system, Luxord wagered).

His present situation was a prime example of said power dynamics. Through sheer arrogance and willpower, he could often hold his own, if not overpower Xaldin, despite Number III’s superiority over him in status and strength alike. But tonight, the scales had tipped in Xaldin’s favor. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he was helpless, left splayed and vulnerable to the machinations of fate. 

At the moment, Xaldin's hand on his cock was the only thing that mattered. He was impossibly hard, slick with precum and breathing heavily with exertion. Every ounce of his attention was focused on the way Xaldin's thumb dragged over the piercings that studded his shaft. He was on the precipice of orgasm, but the agonizing slowness with which Xaldin stroked him wasn’t enough to make him come.

Maybe he was focusing too hard on the physical act. Maybe he needed to let his mind wander in order for his body to succumb to his baser desires. His mind drifted to the makeshift instruments that bound him in place. Xaldin had chosen his Hegemon lances, assuring Luxord it was due to their strength compared to the other lances in his repertoire. They certainly did support his weight more than some of the weaker lances, but Luxord couldn’t help but think that Xaldin also chose them to wage psychological warfare. Xaldin was certainly enjoying his hegemony over him, and his choice of lances was a not-so-subtle way to put Luxord in his place.

The insidious reminder that Xaldin was asserting his dominance over him was getting him more hot and bothered, but it still wasn’t enough. By his internal clock, he was _long_ past due for the sweet relief of release. He could surrender, just so Xaldin would finish him off — but Xaldin was enjoying his reign so much. What kind of a gentleman would he be, if he tapped out before the dealer had dealt his final hand? 

Still, there was no shame in urging the game along.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he began, keeping his voice light and casual despite the fact that he was physically trembling with desire. "Bondage always seems like a splendid idea, then I remember why I loathe it: the fact that I can't touch myself, and you're _never_ sympathetic to my plight."

"You don't hate it." Xaldin spoke plainly. It was a statement, not a question, and his impassive voice was as firm as ever.

"No, I don't," he conceded. Another point in Xaldin's favor. It was infuriating, how easily Xaldin could sway his opinions at times. "But you can't deny that you're no help. And to be perfectly frank, your lack of mercy is making me hate _you_ at this moment in time.”

Xaldin squeezed the base of his cock warningly, and Luxord bit back a wanton moan. He couldn’t show his hand now, not when the added stimulation was just what he needed.

"Do I look like someone who gives mercy? I thought you had me all figured out, Number X." Xaldin withdrew his hand with mere seconds to spare before Luxord peaked. His cock pulsed at the sudden loss of sensation, and he unthinkingly canted his hips up, straining to meet Xaldin’s hand. A sadistic snicker was all he received for his efforts. 

Luxord exhaled in frustration, long past the point of cajoling Xaldin to continue. The Lancer's resolve was unwavering. He would touch him when he deemed fit, and no amount of begging would convince him otherwise. 

“How long has it been?” Xaldin asked. 

“One hour, thirty four minutes, twenty seven seconds.”

Xaldin nodded. “Good.” He reached for the bottle of lube. “Another hour should do it.” 

“Another hou—“ Luxord sputtered in disbelief, all poise vanishing instantly. “Xaldin. You cannot.”

“But I can,” Xaldin said. His eyes raked over Luxord’s naked body, with a savage gleam that told Luxord all he needed to know.

If his partner wasn’t going to change his mind on this _decidedly_ unfair front, then Luxord wasn’t above taking matters into his own hands. He reached within himself to tap into his inner well of magic, and with a snap of his fingers, he cast stopza. 

He didn't use extreme levels of time-altering powers terribly often. It left him drained, and he immediately slumped on the spot, left standing only by the ropes that bound him in place. He wasted a few precious moments of frozen time to gather up his strength again before summoning his sharpest set of cards. They whistled through the still air, slicing through the ropes that bound his hands together.

Luxord winced, rubbing his chafed wrists. _Crude, but effective_ , he thought, sucking one of the papercuts on his forearm. He leaned down to free his legs from the spreader bar and breathed a sigh of relief. He whistled a tune to himself as he carefully wrapped the ropes up and set Xaldin's lances aside.

All that was left to do was to wait for the clock to run out. He sat down in front of Xaldin's frozen, kneeling form, grateful to give his aching feet a break. 

_Three, two, one_. Time resumed as normal within the bubble of Xaldin's room.

“ _Can_ you, though?” Luxord said, as if no time had passed since Xaldin’s little ' _But I can_ ' quip — which, from Xaldin's perspective, it hadn't. 

"What— I— How?" It wasn't often that he left the Lancer this flummoxed. A gratifying reward, indeed. 

Realization dawned on Xaldin. “Time manipulation? Of all the filthy tricks—“

"You played dirty first; I was merely evening up the score.” Luxord smirked at him. “You ought to know better by now. Time is a fickle, flighty mistress. It can’t be tied down.”

Xaldin snorted. “That never stopped me before.”

Luxord ignored the comment. There were more pressing matters to attend to than engaging in witty banter. “My cheating tendencies aside… where were we?" Luxord shifted to straddle Xaldin's clothed lap. After tying him up, Xaldin had removed his cloak of darkness but kept on his undershirt and trousers, which was wildly unfair in Luxord's book of rules.

"And why should I reward a cheater?"

Luxord reached for Xaldin’s fly. "Because I can make it worth your while."

"And how would you do that?" Xaldin shifted slightly as Luxord freed him from the confines of his trousers. The restraint he'd shown while he was teasing his partner was remarkable, given that he was rock hard and hadn't touched himself once.

"Oh, I am sure we can find a mutually beneficial solution..." He pressed closer to Xaldin, trapping both of their cocks between the planes of their abdomens. Grinding against Xaldin, he pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. Perhaps lavishing him with attention, while getting them both off in the process, would mollify his partner. 

He was so close to the edge that he could have easily come just from this, from shamelessly rutting against Xaldin while marking his neck with love-bites — but there were more fun ways to finish the game. He gave a parting kiss to a freshly blossoming bruise before sitting back on his haunches. He helped himself to a generous dollop of lube before enveloping them both in one hand. 

The intimacy of Xaldin’s cock pressed against his own and the slick, tight grip of his fist were sensation overload after an hour and a half of tease-and-denial. It only took a few quick strokes to finish himself off, and then he was rocking against Xaldin as he rode out the waves of his hard-earned climax. _Transcendent_ was the only word his sex-addled brain could hold onto in the haze of bliss that dominated him. 

The light brush of Xaldin’s hand on the small of his back brought him back to reality. He gazed at Xaldin through half-lidded eyes, his breath hot and heavy as he languidly milked out the last few dribbles of cum. “Well worth the wait, I’d say,” he began, voice husky with lust. He flicked his eyes downward. He was spent, but Xaldin was as hard as ever and sticky with Luxord’s own cum. “But never let it be said that I am a selfish lover." He slid off Xaldin’s lap and bent down.

“Get on with it,” Xaldin said. Luxord noted with a perverse sense of glee that Xaldin's lack of amusement didn't extend below the belt; his cock jumped involuntarily under Luxord's watchful eye.

“In no mood for banter, are you?” He ran a finger along Xaldin's shaft, collecting a rivulet of cum. The tangible proof of his completion against still unfinished handiwork was irresistible. "A shame.” He sucked on his finger as he thoughtfully regarded his partner. He was fairly certain he could see the tips of Xaldin's pointy ears turning red.

"Just clean up your mess, Number X," he said gruffly. 

Luxord smirked. " _Gladly._ " He dragged his tongue up the length of Xaldin's cock. He took his sweet time, paying thorough attention to every inch to ensure that he didn't miss a single drop. He'd never minded the way he tasted; lesser men than him would have found this humiliating, but to Luxord, it was just one more thrill to be had. A pleasure, in every sense of the word.

He reached the tip of Xaldin's cock and paused, contemplating his next move. Xaldin pulsed at the interruption, a steady bead of precum trickling out. Luxord eagerly lapped it up, the mild taste mingling with that of his own, saltier cum. Luxord closed his eyes as he wrapped his lips around the head of Xaldin's cock, flattening his tongue against his slit.

He was, to put it lightly, in nirvana: utterly blissed out as he drank in the sensation of sucking Xaldin off. He took the base of Xaldin’s thick shaft into his hand and pumped, hard and fast. The Lancer made a noise from somewhere in the back of his throat. He gripped the back of Luxord’s head, his insistent hand and a sudden gust of supernatural wind urging him on. Luxord bobbed his head with renewed fervor before sinking all the way down, until Xaldin came down his throat, hot and heavy and tasting of victory. 

Luxord pulled off of him with a small gasp, a string of saliva connecting his lower lip to Xaldin's cock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still breathing hard.

No words were exchanged as Xaldin reached for the basin of water at his side, using a wet washcloth to clean them both up. No words _needed_ to be exchanged. 

Sleeping with Xaldin had become a ritual of sorts, a near-daily routine. Despite the frequency with which they slept with each other, they still managed to keep things fresh. Sex was anything but rote in nature; if Xaldin wasn’t teasing Luxord or tying him up, then Luxord was taking charge, showing him the fun of risk-taking. Every night was a new adventure, but it always ended the same way: with the two of them curled up in bed.

Once he was half-clothed, Luxord rested his head on Xaldin's chest. He pushed up Xaldin's undershirt far enough to rub an absentminded thumb over the hard plane of his abdomen as he dwelled on his history with the Whirlwind Lancer. 

He broke the silence. “I love you.” It was the first time he voiced the sentiment out loud. He knew he was taking a gamble, but it was time to stop dancing around the term and say it. He wasn’t nervous about Xaldin's reaction. After all, he knew that he never made mistakes when it came to proper timing. 

Xaldin said nothing. The words hung heavy in the air between them. The silence stretched on long enough that Luxord began to question whether or not not he should be nervous.

"Are you really going to keep up this charade?" Xaldin finally said.

Luxord couldn't help but give a snort of appreciation at the term, despite his apprehension at this choice of response. " _Charades_. Perhaps you've been spending too much time with me, if you're picking up my speech patterns."

"And who's fault is that?" Xaldin curled a hand around the back of Luxord's neck, one thumb rubbing absentmindedly against his nape. "As I recall, you're the one who keeps showing up on my doorstep in the evenings."

Luxord raised an eyebrow. "Your memory fails you then. I've been keeping score. And we're roughly 50-50 on this front."

"Of course you have," Xaldin muttered. "I should have known better than to match wits with a gambler."

"Truer words never spoken," Luxord said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

Xaldin didn't seem to hear his response. He gave his head a little shake. "No, but you’re acting like Number IX."

"An offensive comparison, honestly..."

"You're talking as if you have emotions; it's the only apt comparison. When was the last time you actually felt something?"

Luxord pulled away and sat up straight. He arched an eyebrow. "Tonight," he said. 

Xaldin snorted derisively. "And what was that, pray tell? _Love_? No, that is a power that neither you or I will ever grasp, Luxord. Not in this lifetime. You know nothing of love."

Luxord bristled, but reined himself in. They could have a civilized conversation about this, like proper gentlemen.

"You underestimate me, then. On the contrary, I know _everything_ of love." 

The look Xaldin gave him was one of utmost weariness. Those eyes were so tired, so defeated, it stirred pity in him. "Then explain."

Luxord took the question seriously. He pondered for a moment. "Love is a fool's game,” he slowly began. “It's a far worse hobby than drinking or gambling; it's the one game in life where you stand to lose everything you are and everything you have. So right now, I'm laying my cards on the table, because you are a prize that's worth risking it all." 

He got off the bed, pacing in just his trousers. His own speech was making him incensed now, despite his best efforts to remain calm. "And you sit there and tell me that I _don’t understand love?”_ He shook his head. “You’re telling me you feel nothing for me?"

"Are you truly that ignorant?" There was no spite in his voice, only a vague undertone of bafflement, and perhaps it was this bewilderment that made Luxord so irrationally angry. He got to his feet as well, pausing Luxord's pacing with a hand on his shoulder. "We lack hearts--"

"I _know_ that!” Frustration clouded Luxord’s voice. The concept of lacking a heart had been hammered home time and time again, from the moment he spawned as a Nobody. “You think I don't realize that I lack a heart? That I don't know that I'm an incomplete being, not whole without this integral component to my very existence?"

"Then why do you continue to pretend as though you have one?”

“This is no game of _pretend_. Even if what I feel is the result of a memory of a heart, if it’s just a shadow of my past resurfacing, that doesn’t make it any less legitimate. I felt love once. I can recognize when a person triggers the same reaction — memory, emotion, _whatever —_ in me. Surely you knew love as a Somebody? You value our time together. You hold me like a lover. Why not relive those memories of love with me in the present?”

Xaldin shook his head. “You can continue to maintain your pointless delusion all you wish, but—”

Luxord interrupted him with a scoff. “A _delusion?_ I wouldn't call love a delusion, heart or no heart—“

Xaldin cut off his impending tirade in turn, neither of them willing to let the other complete a thought. “That _isn’t what this is._ ” The wind whipping around the bottom of Xaldin’s cape was the only sign that anything was amiss, as he spoke as calmly and coldly as ever. "Such feelings are beyond our ken. _All_ feelings are. There is nothing more to it than that. Do not complicate matters."

There was a note of finality in his words, but Luxord couldn’t let it go. He stared at him, as if he was seeing him properly for the first time. “ _All_ feelings? You cannot say you feel _nothing_.”

“I don’t _feel_ , Number X. I _think._ ”

Luxord couldn’t stop the sneer that curled his lip. “And amidst all those precious thoughts of yours, there isn’t even the faintest glimmer of love for me?” 

Xaldin sighed. “You know the answer to that.”

"Wonderful." The sarcasm oozing from Luxord's every word. "Glad we've settled that, then. Forgive me my obliviousness in propositioning you," he said with a sardonic little bow, "but I believed in all honesty that there was more to our relationship than a quick fuck. That there were, dare I say, some emotions behind our partnership."

"I never called you a 'quick fuck.' Do not put words in my mouth."

"Then what would you call the complete dismissal of our relationship, if not that?"

Xaldin took a moment to think, pulling down his askew shirt and zipping up his cloak. When he spoke, his thoughts were as put-together as his appearance. "I am not so naive as to say that what we think we feel is love. Love never lasts. So no, I am not in love with you. You do a disservice to us both by assuming that I do."

Luxord let out a short bark of unamused laughter. "Your pessimism is outstanding."

"I am a pessimistic man. You were well aware of that from the start. And perchance it is you who is too optimistic for his own good."

"Then perhaps I should have never gotten involved with you to begin with. This was a gamble I never should've taken. With the utmost disrespect: _fuck you_." 

Xaldin regarded him coolly. "Shut the door on your way out," was all he had to say. He turned his back on Luxord. The bedroom door opened and shut behind Xaldin with a forcible gust of wind.

As the Gambler of Fate stood there, alone, the shadow of anger dissipated. As the tenth member of the Organization, he was one of the more recent Nobodies. Memories of feelings from his past life still surfaced unbidden from time to time. Love was still a fresh memory for him. He'd constantly sought out love as a Somebody, and had been overjoyed to find it a possibility as a Nobody. If love, if emotion, was merely a memory and not an actuality for him… well, he hadn't had nearly a decade of practice of shutting down old feelings like the original six did. Like Xaldin did.

Instead, he'd lost it. The last time he'd lost his temper like that was when he had a heart. He, like the rest of the Nobodies, had always said that losing their hearts robbed them of their emotions. It was an incontestable truth. And yet, that didn't explain the sudden fire that had ignited inside him when he stood there, listening to Xaldin's words. 

"See what you do to me?" he said to the room at large. "You fucking _prick._ "

He shut the door behind him, as Xaldin requested, and found himself staring directly at Xigbar and Demyx. Number II's bedroom door stood directly across from Number III's in the Corridor of Somnolence, and apparently Numbers II and IX had chosen this exact moment in time to loiter outside.

He didn't want to know how much of the argument they'd heard, nor did he wish to know if they were intentionally listening in. Eavesdroppers, the both of them. Xigbar looked up at him, a scheming glint in his eyes. "S'up, dude."

"Hey, man," Demyx added, strumming his ever-present sitar as he leaned against the wall.

Luxord nodded curtly at them. He was still too riled up to speak. Besides, he was growing distrustful of Xigbar as of late. He knew a poker face when he saw one, and there were times he couldn’t shake the sensation that Xigbar’s overly casual demeanor was a façade, a mask meant to deceive others. Whatever his true intentions, Demyx was falling for his cover story. Number IX never seemed to mind when Xigbar joined the others in mocking his laziness, for reasons beyond his understanding. 

He left the two of them to their conversation and strode down the seemingly endless corridor until he reached the door emblazoned with the number X. 

He needed a drink. He went straight for the liquor cabinet he'd set up in his room and selected the latest bottle of rum he'd picked up at Port Royal. He took a steady draw directly from the bottle, the burning alcohol stinging his throat, then more, then more, until he was deadened enough to dwell on what had just happened.

With a heavy sigh, he set down the bottle and summoned a ring of cards around him. Perhaps a message from the fates would guide him. With a flick of the wrist, he shuffled the deck and sent them spinning, spinning, spinning, until they came to a halt. He tapped the first card that rested in front of him, revealing its face.

The first card, the heart of the matter: The Moon. "The shadow realm. Vivid dreams and fears, illusions, intuition..." Luxord muttered to himself. Speaking out loud always helped him get his thoughts in order. "Darkness lingers here, creating self-doubt and uncertainty." He glanced out the window at the ever-growing moon of Kingdom Hearts. "That's one way to describe this situation, yes."

He turned over the second card. The past: Strength. "Mastery of emotions." Luxord snorted. "Bit on the nose." His weapons always did have a sense of humor. "A call to harness the power of focus, compassion, and self-control. Courage comes from the heart." He rubbed one weary hand over his face. "More applicable when I was whole, I'll give it that. Certainly a factor in play now."

He tapped the next card. The third card, the future: Justice. "Decisions, karma… There is a weight, a heaviness, surrounding a choice one must make. All choices affect one's life; the past and the present affect the future." He nodded vaguely. There was no doubt in his mind that he had a difficult decision to make in his immediate future, one that would be influenced by both his past as a Somebody and his present as a Nobody.

He moved down the line. The fourth card, the message: The Hierophant. "A hunger for knowledge, as provided by a mentor. Conformity and traditional values." He worried his lower lip with his teeth. He could interpret this one of two ways: as a sign to seek guidance from others, or a pointed reminder to keep his head down and conform to what he'd been told since his birth as a Nobody: that he no longer had a heart, that his memories of his past life might manifest as false emotions, but they weren't real. Xaldin had certainly internalized that, albeit to a much more extreme extent than most others in the Organization.

He exhaled a thin stream of air before drawing the fifth card. The outcome: Wheel of Fortune. "Fate. Destiny." He recited the meaning with a practiced ease — the Gambler of Fate knew the Wheel of Fortune all too well. "A change of course. The eye of the Wheel is upon you, bringing you closer to your life's purpose."

Luxord swept his hand, and all of the cards vanished. He scrubbed both hands over his face as he ruminated on the many possible implications of this reading. "Clear as mud," he mumbled to himself.

He left the room and wandered the empty halls of the massive castle. He passed by the Computer Room, where Saix was entering the day's reports, and he quickly left before he could be interrogated on the specifics of his mission to Wonderland. 

Lexaeus was alone in the Library, but the Silent Hero failed to so much as look up from his book when Luxord attempted to greet him. He shrugged and moved on to The Kitchen That Never Was, where Marluxia and Larxene were conversing about god-knew-what. 

"Care for some company?" he asked.

"At this exact moment?" Marluxia was engrossed in filing his nails. 

Larxene looked up from her work. She had several raw hot dogs speared between her kunai and, one by one, was electrocuting them. "Hmm, let me think," she drawled. She zapped another hot dog, cooking it instantaneously, and pulled one of the kunai off. "Oh, I know!" She chucked the throwing knife at Luxord, who sidestepped it. Larxene was predictable in her unpredictable bouts of violence. "Absolutely not!" she chirped with false brightness. She chomped down on the hot dog, which was still sizzling on its makeshift skewer.

He left them to their dinner and decided to visit the Grey Area. If his cards were insinuating that he needed to seek out a mentor, he wasn't having any luck so far. The common area was as good a place to continue the search. Barring that, he'd seek out Xaldin in earnest and… have a more civilized conversation, he supposed. 

The room was empty except for Xigbar and Demyx, who had apparently decided to relocate. Xigbar was sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, with Demyx's head on his lap. Demyx was talking animatedly at a mile a minute.

“—can’t _believe_ we waited what, a whole half hour, and he _still_ didn’t come out? I’m telling you, Xiggy, this better not have been a waste of time. I didn’t work that hard for nothing!”

Luxord waited for an interlude to interject. "Sorry to interrupt what I'm sure is a very important conversation, gentlemen, but I don't suppose either one of you has seen Xaldin around?"

"Sorry dude, not a clue."

"Why, what's up?" Demyx asked, lifting his head off of Xigbar's lap to peer at Luxord.

"We had a row," Luxord said shortly, not wanting to get into the details. He didn't need the cards to tell him that neither one of them could provide him the guidance he so sorely needed. "I'd like to talk to him, but I can't find him anywhere in this blasted castle."

"Huh," Xigbar said dispassionately. "Tough luck."

"Your sympathy is appreciated," Luxord said drily. "You knew Xaldin before he was a Nobody, yes? Where did he go when he got angry?"

"Dunno. I didn't exactly make it a habit of looking for Dilan when he was pissed off. Mainly ‘cause I was usually the one who ticked him off in the first place."

"Well, you're a great help," Luxord muttered. He turned to go.

"Ask Lexaeus."

"Come again?"

"Lexaeus. Ask him where Xaldin would be. He should know, he and Xaldin were best friends, you know, when we were all..." Xigbar waved his hand around vaguely. " _Alive._ "

"Curious," Luxord muttered to himself, rubbing his thin beard absentmindedly. He’d never seen Lexaeus and Xaldin so much as exchange a passing glance before. He bid the two of them goodbye and began the trek back the way that he came. 

He allowed his mind to wander as he walked, wondering about Xaldin's past, and where Lexaeus factored in. He had to admit, he sometimes felt out of the loop -- the original six Apprentices obviously knew each other from their former lives, and even Saix and Axel came from Radiant Garden as well. Marluxia and Larxene had joined the Organization after him, a clique of their own, built in best friends from the same world. Demyx was the only other member of the Organization who had no other tie to an Organization member when he joined, but Demyx was, for all intents and purposes, a social chameleon. Number IX had a way of insinuating himself into the others' lives, if only for his own gain. He'd get out of work by asking Vexen to explain whatever research he was presently working on, or goading Xemnas into waxing rhapsodic about Kingdom Hearts, or recruiting Xigbar or Axel to join him in various acts of mischief. Demyx played dumb, but he knew _exactly_ how to manipulate others into joining him in his time-wasting ventures. Luxord had no doubt that Demyx had wheedled out information about the others' past lives in one of his many attempts to distract them from work.

He, on the other hand, knew nothing about any of his companions' past lives; it wasn't exactly a topic for around the dinner table. Still, he thought back to what Xigbar had said about Xaldin and Lexaeus being close friends and found himself wondering if their Somebodies were just like their Nobody counterparts. Had Lexaeus always been so reserved and, for the most part, unapproachable? Had Xaldin, for that matter? Had losing their hearts robbed them of their previous personalities? 

He thought himself to be more or less the same as Rudol, albeit somewhat more cunning and somewhat less rash. Were these slight differences a counter product of life as a heartless being? Nobodies in general had a miserable existence, walking that twilight between light and dark, dead and alive. It wasn't unthinkable that their existence would change them on a fundamental level.

The more he thought, the deeper a mental labyrinth he wove. Each unanswered, impossible question became one more piece of a puzzle he was unable to solve. 

He pulled himself out of his reverie as he approached the library once more. Lexaeus, thankfully, hadn't left his spot. 

"I've returned," he said, somewhat lamely. There was no good way to reintroduce oneself after an awkward encounter where one party refused to acknowledge the other. "I can see that you're busy, but I've been, er, sent to see you. For advice."

Lexaeus shut his book, his finger marking his last-read page, as if anticipating a short conversation. 

Luxord sat down in the chair opposite Number V. “As you’re no doubt aware, since word travels fast around this blasted place, I’ve been having relations with Xaldin for a time. Tonight I told him I had feelings for him.” He paused. “The word ‘love’ may have been bandied about. He…” Luxord searched for the right phrasing. 

“Didn’t take it well,” Lexaeus supplied. 

“To put it lightly, no.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Lexaeus said, as blunt as ever.

“Well— nothing, really. But I’ve heard tell you and Xaldin were once friends. I thought perhaps you could provide some insight into his reaction. If our feelings as Nobodies are the product of our memories as Somebodies, then why is he so vehemently against love? He must have felt it before -- I'm sure you know plenty about that, if you were indeed good friends. Now, he plays his cards so close to his chest, he won’t have an honest conversation about it. Instead, he denies feeling anything. I know he feels anger, I’ve heard him go on about how anger makes you strong. So if he can 'feel' rage, then why not love? It’s nonsensical.”

Lexaeus withdrew his makeshift placeholder and set his book on the table next to him. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

"If you're looking for the particulars of Xaldin's private life when we were whole," he began. "You won't get them from me. It's not my place to talk about his past, and I will not share details that were told in confidence, one friend to another. With that said, I can share my perceptions of him from that time." He broke eye contact, his gaze shifting to some distant point behind Luxord. "It's my belief that love is what first attracted Dilan to the darkness. We all collected our own subjects for our research into the darkness of the heart. Strangers — mostly. Dilan's choice of subjects and personal motivations concerned me."

Lexaeus paused. Luxord gave a small nod, silently urging him to continue. He was getting a clearer idea of the mental profile Xaldin was bringing to the table.

"He ignored me when I spoke to him about it and carried on his own, private, psychological experiments. He hardened his heart, until his anger consumed it." He met Luxord's eyes once more. "I am not surprised Xaldin balked at the mention of love. His strongest memories are of hatred and hurt, not love."

Lexaeus sat back in his chair, evidently done with his speech. In just a few minutes, he'd said more words than Luxord had heard from him in his entire time with the Organization. 

Luxord did his best to process all this. "I had no idea you used to be friends," he said, mostly to fill the silence. "You never talk."

"The darkness changed us. All of us. Xaldin more than most. Without his heart… he closed himself off to me entirely. I didn’t end our friendship. He did." As Luxord looked into Lexaeus's eyes, he thought he saw a familiar weariness. "Be grateful he’s let you get as close to him as he has."

"I don’t understand." Luxord said. "He's not letting me get close: he's pushing me away."

"No, you _don't_ understand," Lexaeus said simply. "Love makes people blind."

"So does anger," Luxord argued. Two could play this game. 

"Then I advise you to take that into consideration." Lexaeus picked his book up once more. "I don't pretend to know what words you two exchanged tonight, but Dilan always said exactly what he meant. They may not have been the words you wished to hear, but look beyond them for the sentiment underneath."

"Noted," Luxord said, somewhat curtly. Lexaeus reopened his book, signaling that the conversation was over. 

Luxord stood to leave, but he couldn't resist asking, "Lexaeus, one last question, if I may..."

The other man looked up from the page and inclined his head to indicate that he could continue.

"...Would you say that you love Zexion?" He was beginning to understand just how little he knew of the past. He just knew that Lexaeus and Zexion, for one reason or another, were a matched set around the castle.

Lexaeus simply stared at him.

"Too much? Yes, I suppose I was pressing my luck with that one." Luxord sighed. He stood up. "Very well. I thank you for your time. I don't suppose you have any idea where I can find him?"

"There's a storm outside. Look outside the castle walls; you'll find Xaldin somewhere out there."

He thanked Lexaeus and left the library, replaying the conversation in his mind. Perhaps Lexaeus was right; perhaps love, or anger, blinded him to the true meaning of Xaldin's words. He had to consider this logically. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall Xaldin's exact words. 

_"I am not so naive as to say that what we share is love. Love flourishes, withers, and dies. Love never lasts."_

If love, in Xaldin's mind, never lasted, but what they shared would, then—

His hand flew to his forehead. Oh, he was _thick!_ There was a touch of hysteria to his sudden laughter. The answer had been staring him in the face the whole time, and he'd ignored it, all because it hadn't conformed to his expectations. 

He had to make things right.

Luxord broke out into a run, rushing through the corridors and down the stairs to the main doors of the castle. A glimmer of hope lurked within him. He clung to this fragment, to the belief that it wasn't too late to fix things with Xaldin, to a gleam of light in the eternal darkness that surrounded him. 

Time had not yet run out. He could only hope that his luck hadn't either. He summoned up his courage and stepped out into the pouring rain.

As he searched the city streets, he began to doubt himself. He kept the desperation at bay by rehearsing what he would say once he found his partner. He loved Xaldin. The other man didn't believe in the word, but he _had_ , in his own roundabout way, professed an unparalleled depth of emotion for Luxord. 

In the end, did it matter whether or not the word 'love' was used, or if he and Xaldin disagreed on whether or not Nobodies could feel such a thing? At the end of the day, love was nothing more than another game, and it was one that he was determined to win. "Losing" was not in his vast vocabulary. He would not let his relationship with Xaldin slip away from him, not now, not ever, and certainly not over such a silly disagreement.

At last, he rounded a corner and found the man he was searching for.

"Xaldin— Xaldin!" he called out, but the words were lost in the thundering drum of rainfall and the howling gale that surrounded the Whirlwind Lancer. 

He pushed aside the uncharitable thought that rose up, unbidden — how could Xaldin _still_ say he felt nothing when he'd summoned up a factual tempest of emotion? — and shouldered his way through the gale, his cloak whipping around his heels. 

" _Xaldin_ ," he said, more forcefully, managing to place a hand on his shoulder. 

Xaldin whirled around to face him, his stony face enough to make Luxord wince. The wind died down to a murmur. 

Luxord wet his lips, his mouth dry despite the sheets of rain sluicing down his face. “I apologize," he began. "I apologize for pushing you. I merely wanted an answer to a question that’s been plaguing me for some time.” 

“Many questions were exchanged. you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I believe you’re aware of the one I’m referring to. 'Are my feelings for you reciprocated?'”

“No. I don’t have feelings, and neither do you." Xaldin took Luxord's hand into his own and placed it against his chest. "Do you feel a heartbeat?" Luxord knew the answer. How many nights had he laid with his head on Xaldin's chest, hearing nothing within? 

Xaldin released Luxord's hand. "The silence is your answer. The sooner you accept this, the better. Don’t misunderstand me: I still wish to spend my nights with you. But my desire to be with you is not fueled by emotions of the heart, and despite your protests to the contrary, yours aren’t either.”

Luxord had anticipated this response, having had plenty of time to weigh the possibilities. He'd easily calculated the probability of this as Xaldin's answer, and he knew what he needed to say. He had two choices: agree with Xaldin's specious claim that they didn't love each other and continue their relationship regardless, or go their separate ways. 

He didn't need to flip a coin to know that he would choose the former. These were the terms of having a relationship with Xaldin, and a smart player knew how to adapt his game to suit the house rules. 

“Very well," he conceded. "Perhaps you are correct. I don’t love you. Not in the manner of one who has a heart. But I am drawn to you regardless: on a mental and a physical level, if not an emotional one. You have a curious magnetism about you.” 

Xaldin gave him a small, rare smile, and in that moment, Luxord knew that he could easily stand by Xaldin’s side and profess that he’d never felt anything since losing his heart to the darkness. He was, if nothing else, excellent at bluffing. 

“I could say the same about you," Xaldin replied. "You fascinate me, X.”

Luxord smirked and stepped closer to intertwine their gloved fingers. "Glad we're in agreement, then." He leaned up to kiss Xaldin, slow and deep, and for several blissful moments, they were one. They didn't need to argue the semantics of their relationship. With a single kiss, Luxord knew exactly how Xaldin felt about him, whether or not he could voice the sentiment. It was impossible. It was ineffable.

It was beautiful. 

Xaldin was the first to pull away. "We may not have hearts," he said, "but we do have stomachs. Care to join me for some dinner?"

Luxord grinned at him. It was still pouring, but the storm between them had passed. "Wouldn't pass that opportunity up for the world, mate."

Xaldin reached for his hand, an unexpected gesture of tenderness, as they made their way back to the Castle. "Know this," he said, "I've loved before and grown tired of it. But I will never tire of trying to figure you out."

Luxord squeezed his hand. "Agreed. The world was far too simple a puzzle before you came along."

They opened the door to find that they weren't alone. Zexion was in the foyer and just as wet as they were, sopping hair plastered to his face. 

"Caught out in the rain too, were you?" Luxord asked.

"No. Don't ask," Zexion snarled through gritted teeth, wringing water out of his wet hair and stalking down the hall. " _Where_ are you?" he shouted. 

Somewhere in the distance, Luxord could hear an audible "oh _shit!"_ from Demyx, a cackle from Xigbar, and the unmistakable sound of a void portal opening as the culprits made their escape. 

Xaldin raised his eyes heavenward and released Luxord's hand. "If someone doesn't mitigate things, tomorrow's mission will be deeply unpleasant," he said, more to himself than anything. He evidently did not want to be the mediator, but his displeasure didn't stop him from heading after Zexion. 

As he followed Xaldin down the corridor, Luxord surreptitiously placed a hand on his own chest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, a trick of the imagination… but he could have sworn he felt _something_ — the faintest flutter of a heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left lovely comments when I uploaded all my ancient KH fics I wrote in 2010-2011! Y'all inspired me to dust off an old .txt file of notes and write this beast. Definitely a challenge to step back in the shoes of writing for XalLux/KH in general, BUT it was a blast to write so I hope you found it enjoyable!


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